


Vocatia Takes a Stand

by Pendles_is_friendles



Series: Alls the Thralls [1]
Category: Battleborn (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I'm learning how tags work so plz be kind, Originally Posted on Tumblr, puns and back crunching ahead though, unnamed character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 19:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17270114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pendles_is_friendles/pseuds/Pendles_is_friendles
Summary: The thrallmother's work is never done.  Right at the top of Vocatia's list of things to do is teach a Jennerit that they have no right to hurt her sons, let alone her void-touched son Rictus, anywhere near her neighborhood.  With both Jacques and Rictus in tow, she takes matters under her own hooves.





	Vocatia Takes a Stand

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of a collection of fics circling a handful of OCs of mine. Most were previously posted on Tumblr, but are being edited, reworked and reposted here for your reading pleasure. There's a lot more where this came from.

“This is the one?” Vocatia shot a glance down to her gangly son, whose hand barely covered his half-mangled face. A new menace had moved into her territory, a young high-born that got his rocks off tormenting the weaker, but free, thrall. “You sure, mate? I don’t want a repeat of last time. The cleaners’ere expensive…”

The former gunner hung his head, lavender-tinged eyes cast downward. “’T’s him this time. Promise." The low reverberation in his voice sent shivers through the rest of the gang. Rictus shrugged. "I did say sorry 'bout the lady wit' all the cats." He jabbed a clawed finger in the direction of the door. “But this is the definitely the one what thought he could play at master and cut my face.”

Letting out a weary sigh, the Thrallmother banged her fist on the door and motioned for her larger sons to stand right behind her. Holding her head high, she steeled her gaze and motioned for the largest one, Jacques, to break down the door. Vocatia did not flinch as the massive fist whizzed just past her horns and rendered the metal door into a crumpled lump of metal on the floor. She strode into the domicile with a grace reserved for empresses, her eyes barely moving as she scanned the place for the insolent occupant. Spying the scrawny vampire, her gaze turned to ice as she lifted her hand in a come hither motion. “We gotta talk, mate. Seems you don’t get how thin’s work ‘round here…”

“You miserable bitch! No one breaks down my doo–” His voice cut short as a massive three-fingered hand gripped his chest and Jacques gave him an easy grin.

Shaking her head with a disappointed click of her tongue, Vocatia took a seat in one of the fine leather chairs the Jennerit had decorated the room with. Running her gold-tipped nail across it, she crossed her fish-netted legs. With a look to Jacques, she lifted her hooves and pointed to the ground under them. Jacques chuckled as he dropped highborn and forced him to lay on his belly; the Thrallmother lowered her legs to gently rest her fresh painted hooves just over his spine. “No, you’re goin’ to listen to me. These’re my streets, you hear?” Her nonchalant tone mixed with the steely frost of her voice like a martini in a shaker. Her tongue clicked against her teeth as she inspected her nails and noticed the small chip in the gold-leaf.

“Your under my rule and I says you can’t mess with me sons, got it?”

The Jennerit’s crimson eyes met the long-plated gunner’s purple ones as he hissed. “You don’t own shit. I am your master and this beast deserved the lashings! He–”  
“Huh, seems to me I need to stand…” Polished hooves jabbed into the laughably weak spine. "I sure hope you're sustained..." she mused, pressing down with more force. "I'd really rather not get your insides on me hooves."

“But… maybe… just maybe, if you tell Rictus y’re sorry–“ she tilted her head to scratch an itch under her chin as she looked down her nose at him. “And pay me a protection fee to keep rowdy gangs of Thrall from bustin’ down your door, I’ll–”

“Fuck you!”

“I am feelin’ quite restless, you daft pillock,” she snapped as she stomped her hoof down onto the Jennerit’s ribs to make her point. His squeak barely covered the crack of bone and tissue. Casting a glance of disbelief to each of her sons and wiping the gob of spit from her chin, she warned, “Either you apologize or I stand. You’re out of options, mate.”

A notable, but unintelligible slur escaped in the Jennerit’s agonized cough. Sudden exhaustion overtook the Thrallmother as she got up to the sickening crunch of bone slicing through cartilage and muscle under hoof. Stabbing a manicured finger in Rictus’ direction she commanded, “this gets cleaned within the hour, got it?” Lifting her hoof out of the mangled corpse, she curled her lip as shd tried to shake off the bits of flesh that clung to her fishnet stockings. “And another thin’, stop fuckin’ with vampires. I catch you pullin’ this again I’ll kick you m'self, got it?”

Turning his white head on his thin neck, he scratched at his chin with his claws. “Yeah, got it.”

“Good.” Jacques knelt to offer his arm to carry her up on his shoulder. Accepting the seat, she gave him a quick scratch under his chin as her approval before finishing her address to Rictus. “See you back at the Bat, darlin’. Stay out of trouble.”


End file.
